Second Chances
by Aceven
Summary: (AU) Being a Shinigami, for some, is all about second chances. But, as Hisoka discovers, not all second chances are a good thing and some, even, are nothing more than a way to renew an old pain. Can you really leave happiness up to the whims of fate? TxH


Enma was a sadist. There could be no other possible explanation. Hisoka's eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he glared at the building before him, willing it to disappear. However, the building was a sadist too, as it refused to leave and stood there, stone brick and all.  
  
Hisoka sighed. He hated school. He always hated school and he was quite sure that he always _would_ hate school for the rest of his eternal life. But there was no one else in the Shokan Division that could investigate these cases as a student - there was no one who died young enough to still be considered a chi-   
  
He savagely struck down that train of thought, jamming his hands into his pockets as he stalked through the entrance of the school and into the courtyard. There were students gathered all around, giving friends cheerful hellos, or whispering conspiratorially in the corners - he didn't need his empathy to know that they were trading questions and gossip about the new boy. It was the same thing, over and over, school after school - sometimes he wondered if human teenagers had some kind of stock mold. This thought, inevitably, brought to mind the ridiculous idea of human shaped cookie-cutters and gingerbread men attending high school.  
  
And that thought reminded him of, for some strange reason, one of the very odd office Christmas parties they had ever had. All of their infrequent office parties were odd, but this one went down in the annals of Shinigami history as the oddest of the lot, simply because it was completely normal - no property destruction, no unexplainably drunk doodles singing carols while swaying drunkenly atop the windowsill, just normalcy. That was the party when Hisoka had first seen gingerbread men - _real_ gingerbread men, as Wakaba had made them, and not the misshapen blobs Tsuzuki had tried to make earlier in the evening. They were good, as all of Wakaba's food tended to be, and had sparked in Tsuzuki a drama act about how they were all demons, eating a sweet in the shape of a human. Until Watari pointed out that they were rapidly disappearing, and that no one was falling for his blatant attempt to secure more of the cookies for himself.  
  
His lips still twitched at the memory - even Tatsumi-san was having fun, despite muttering about how much that one splurge was going to cost them. It had been the last Christmas party the office had, needless to say. It had, in fact, been the last party of any kind before that mission...before Tsuzuki...  
  
If Hisoka hadn't been all too aware of scrutinizing eyes upon him, watching his every move, he would have shook his head and growled in frustration. However, he was certain it would make his investigation harder if a rumor started spreading that the new boy was crazy, hearing voices in his head…Sighing, the empath distracted himself by fishing for the slip of paper his newest partner had given him. It was someone who supposedly had information on the case, probably a student Hisoka supposed – he could hardly see an adult wanting to meet in the courtyard of a high school.   
  
He glanced at his watch – he was just slightly early, no more than a minute or two. Scowling slightly, he leaned up against a tree, hoping this supposed informant wasn't late. He hated waiting, especially since waiting equaled brooding for him. Normally that wasn't so bad, in his opinion, but lately his mind had fastened on a particular topic…a topic he didn't even want to _think_ about, much less brood over. He didn't want to remember limp brown hair…lifeless violet eyes…  
  
A hand touched his shoulder, jolting him out of his memories with a suddenness that caused him to jump slightly, drawing even more stares from his fellow classmates. Irritability swept over him as a blush crawled up his cheeks – no one had snuck up on him in a while, and to be caught unaware like he had simply because he was deep in thought. He looked over at the individual who startled him "Took you long…"  
  
And he paused, staring at the boy before him. It wasn't possible, he had to be dreaming. There was _no_ way, his mind argued, he was _dead_, it couldn't be him! But the rest of him insisted that it was, it had to be – though not exactly the same – that face, that hair, those _eyes_! The open, cheery expression on his face! It had to be…"Tsuzuki…"  
  
The phantom before him blinked, tilting his head slightly in confusion. Then that bright smile was back. "You know my name! That makes this so much easier! You're Kurosaki-san, aren't you?"   
  
Hisoka took a step back, eyes widening. _Kurosaki-san?_ And then the illusion broke, the phantom became real, flesh and blood. The Tsuzuki before him was too young, maybe only a year older than himself, and wearing a school uniform. The Tsuzuki he knew always wore suits, but never…never…  
  
Tsuzuki took a step forward, looking concerned. "Kurosaki…san?"  
  
Then the spell was completely broke and Hisoka ran, simply turned on his heel and ran through the courtyard and passed the gates. He ran from the demons of his past, ran from the memories, ran from his own feelings and broken heart, and – most especially – ran from the one person he had wanted to see more than anything in the world. He choked back a sob, eyes suspiciously bright as he fled from the phantoms of happy times, the feelings of happier times, and the illusion of hope.   
  
And then, he simply ran. Enma was a _sadist_.


End file.
